That's What She Said
by Ink On Paper
Summary: A study into select quotes from one ninja chick assassin. Tiva, of course . . . . A Companion to 'That's What He Said.'
1. I

**A/N: Well, I promised I would write a companion to That's What He Said and here it is! Our Altanta trip was lovely, a little chaotic, but what is new? The orchestra took first place (Yay!) and the Chorus did so as well. NHS dominated, needless to say :^) And it will never cease to amaze me how much music unites us, you know? That two girls from Canada that I had never met sat down and we talked about music for half an hour -that is awesome. *Sigh* I am such a music nerd (or as we fondly have dubbed ourselves, 'Orch Dorks'). Anyway, I wrote several chapters of this on the bus ride (and slept the rest of the time) and shall now post the first two installments. So here we go!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but unfinished homework assignments that cruelly beckon me to my desk. 'Tis a sad thing, having to write seven APWH essays. Ah, well. . . . .**

"He's my partner."

And he is. Her partner. Her friend. A man who is everything she never knew she was missing because she hadn't found it until after she met him. And she would have found it the day she met him if she'd left herself. But she didn't because that seemed like a foolish thing to do, learn to trust a man, befriend a stranger, who wanted the opposite of what she did –a man whose green eyes were hurting because a loved one was taken away. And when she permitted herself to trust him, allowed her heart to open up just a little bit, peel back part of the veil she shrouded herself in, she found the missing piece. They were assigned to watch each other's backs, never told to monitor the opposite's six. They just did. And it took a while but before she realized it, she no longer had to guess what he wanted, where he wanted her when they were creeping around a suspect's residence, what he needed to say to get her to understand. And he no longer had to guess what subjects were safe to broach around her on long car rides, nor did he have to hazard her next move, wonder if he would have the barrel of his Sig in her face or the target's. And it was no longer necessary for her to pantomime what it was she was trying to convey because he understood now in an instant what idiom she had mangled. And he knew now to never let her drive. And now they moved in tacit, conversed with eyes and looks and actions. She knew him better than herself and the frightening truth was that he knew her in a similar manner. And he didn't hate her for it. Because she's his partner.

_And years from now, the word partner will have more meanings, more layers. Because they are partners and never will stop being so._


	2. II

**A/N: :^)**

**DISCLAIMER: And so it goes . . . . .**

"Well, maybe she does and you never even noticed or maybe you have done something that hurt her. Or maybe you said nothing when you should have said something."

And maybe she does. Maybe he does. And it wasn't that she never even noticed, because she did notice, acutely. It was just easier to pretend. Pretend that he didn't look at her sometimes from across the space separating her desk, that he didn't read her mind or eyes as easily as he read her lips. Pretend that his hand didn't brush hers on purpose, or his arm touch her shoulder, that their knees didn't touch under the table during their lunch break. But maybe, perhaps, he was the one who didn't do the noticing. Maybe the glances she shared weren't felt all the way through, maybe he just failed to realize that when it was late and they were standing before the layout screen and he came up behind her, maybe he didn't realize that she would lean into him, just a little. And she hopes it is that he didn't notice. She hopes he isn't pretending too. And it is the lying and the fading movie nights and the banter that is hurting her. And this, she thinks, is why she never should have become so attached. And it isn't like he can apologize anyway because the words 'I'm sorry' are taboo. And they are both to blame for saying nothing when they should have said something. And they both know this, that the fault lies with both sides, but, naturally, they do not acknowledge this. Because why speak up now? When she tells him this she walks away afterward and he watches her retreating back at another missed chance.

_Eventually they both do and they both notice. And apologies are whispered because a crippling hurt is more debilitating than three easily spoken words of 'I am sorry.' And foolish pride is the greater weakness. And they both say nothing but it speaks volumes of everything that is conveyed with a single look, a simple caress, a soft kiss._


	3. III

"That is because you are a good person."

And she knows this, the extent of his goodness, his kindness, him. And he has shown her this on many occasions. When her almost was nearly too close and a graze from a bullet was living testament and even though she was cold and distant and stupid toward him, he kept his persistence, determined not to let her get too lost in her headspace. And when they were scarcely more than strangers and fate found them compromised, off the grid, with little time for rescue, he was valiant and insistent in his determination to make her safe. And the bad guys held a knife to his throat and seven punches were dealt to his jaw, but he was hell bent certain that they would let her show them what they sought –if only because she at least could escape. And so when he looks at her, the worry and the pain in his eyes, she knows, are not his. His hesitation and his guilt are from his heart that goes out to those who he hurt and to those he might have hurt. Because he is a good person.

He is teaching her to be a good person too and to see herself as such.


	4. IV

**A/N: Quick update on my lack of update: I am swamped with make-up work and AP exam preparation and life in general. Therefore, it is taking me a while to write chapter 3 to All We Are. And that being said, I can at least write up one of these (these being 'That's What She Said') fairly quickly. So I won't be completely off grid . . . . . Anyway, keep the peace until next time, much love, Kit.**

**DISCLAIMER: And it's still nada.**

"Who is the bad guy? Be a man. Go tell her what she needs to hear."

She is not a good person, she knows, but when she tells him this, her intentions are pure out of genuine concern. And she has been hurt, badly, by open ended break-ups, where men do the leaving with no explanation, and while they eventually come and go with no pain from her behalf, it still hurt before the calluses. And besides, he is a good person and she knows the doctor meant something to him. And therefore she knows he does not wish to cause her pain. The pain of what ifs, of could haves. The agony of what was reality and what was an act –none of which, she is almost certain, was an act. He had fallen in love with that girl. And it was a grave error and erroneous judgment, but it had happened. And now both were hurting. So she gives him a shove, even when he is at his absolute lowest, tells him too man up after what is one of the worst days of his life. And she does not know Jeanne Benoit, but he does, and he knows exactly what she needs to be told. Because it is so very easy to channel pain into hate, to concentrate desolate sadness into righteous anger. And he knows this. And she knows this and it is all to familiar. And the scariest part? The fact that she is hurting just as much as he is for the same reason.

_And eventually, he tells her exactly what she needs to hear._


	5. V

**A/N: It's been a while, yes?**

**DISCLAIMER: Use your imagination.**

"And I know what you are hiding from . . . . What everyone afraid to love hides from, being hurt."

She was taught at a young age to filter her feelings, her emotions, her senses so that they could not be used against her. After all, it is human nature, an encoded animalistic instinct that teaches mankind to avoid things that inflict pain. Hot coals will burn bare feet, sharp glass will slice clumsy fingers. Bullets will steal life and bombs will take heartbeats, knifes will main and people will kill. Hate will drive one to their utmost limit, animosity borne from whatever ignorance will prove just how far into the shadows one is willing to go. Fear provokes an instinct, a fight or flight response that when the latter is factored out, leaves only the former to be honed and perfected and cultured to its extreme. And pride makes for a potent force that rears up in contempt when threatened, when opposed. But love, love does nothing it seems, but offer a vulnerable spot in a strong infrastructure and leads to nothing short of destruction. Because she is twenty-six and has seen what happens when love is considered, when the heart overrides the brain. And she has seen lives lost for the sake of lost lives all because someone loved somebody. The last time she let love in, she was subjected to watch a good man die agonizingly slow and no one could do anything for him . . . . He hides. He hides because he has been hurt and his body remembers the pain wrought by that love. He hides because he is afraid, but that surely cannot be a weakness because in her eyes it is nothing but self-preservation . . . . She quit hiding years ago. She quit hiding because shadows can infiltrate even the best of hiding places. She quit hiding and opted to train herself to simply not feel. It was easier. She knows.

_No one is hiding anymore._

**A/N2: Well?**


	6. VI

**A/N: I like Tony's better.**

**DISCLAIMER: Deja vu.**

"Nothing is inevitable."

She hates that word, loathes it. Inevitable. Her whole damn existence is exactly the opposite because somebody has tossed a handful of dirt in the water and she can no longer see clearly through the ripples and the cloudiness and the lies and there is so much blood. Jenny's blood, Ari's blood, Tali's blood. She swimming in it –no. Not swimming. Drowning. Drowning in vermillion blood and amber alcohol . . . . Nothing is certain and there are no guarantees. Tomorrow may never come and today is never permanent until it is yesterday. Jennifer Shepard was not inevitable because she was not immune to bullets and hatred and love, she wasn't invincible and she wasn't immortal. Ziva David is not inevitable. Tali, sweet compassionate little Tali, who should have gone on to instill peace with a smile and raise tolerant babies, who saw the world for what it could be, who saw the best out of everyone –not even she was inevitable. Death is inevitable. Death is the only honest, certain, factor in life as ironic as it may seem. Because eternity may not exist and her next breath might be ripped away in the beat of a bullet-riddled heart, but death provided the single constant in the chaos. It did not discriminate against races nor spare anyone, be they children or elderly. Death was comfort, it was omnipresent and she was very good at it . . . . Love is not inevitable, she has evidence to that. Because husbands kill their wives and wives kill their husbands, lovers murder each other and friendships dissolve in an instant. Because Jennifer Shepard died alone. Because they are all alone . . . . Love is not inevitable because a year from now, Eli David will send his daughter to die. Nothing is inevitable but death.

_Years later she will be proved wrong. Because in a dusty cell in a forsaken desert she'll find her inevitable death thwarted by a much gentler fate. As it turns out, love is invincible. It is not held back by oceans nor hourglasses nor hate-filled men. Love conquers all and thus surpasses inevitable. Years later she will be proved wrong when her life becomes the certainty in her future –when she actually is given a future, with him, to look forward to._


	7. VII

**A/N: Our Forever should be up by tomorrow. :^)**

**DISCLAIMER: Yup.**

"I guess I'll never know."

She'll never know and he'll never know because they never said, never bothered asking out loud. "You loved him" and no, she didn't. Because love is a handicap and her defenses are compromised enough and it isn't Michael who breeched those reserves. She is already weakened from a previous heartbreak, she cannot add to it. It isn't fair. To her, to him, to anyone. Life isn't fair and it is an ugly truth that is all too apparent . . . . She'll never know. She'll never know what could have been, just like Michael will never know and Jenny will never know and Kate will never know. Because they did not and will not live long enough to find out. And everyone that survives will never know because it takes two to figure things, to untangle facts and lay them out and comprehend what it is they've found. So she'll never know and he'll never know because fate will not allow them borrowed time to learn. Stolen time, if only they could get their hands on it, but she's had enough with stealing and it seems to be too much. Stolen lives and hearts and knowledge that is owed, but will never fully be revealed . . . . And life is composed of guesses and theories and dreams and maybes and she really needs something concrete to cling to.

But there is nothing definite other than guesses and unknowns.

Memories of inevitability echo ominously in the air.

_Now they know. _


End file.
